January 11, 2017. I can’t recall a more turbulent November/December than what 2016 dished up. And 2017 promptly slapped down a hard freeze. No more meditative consolation from my landscape! Or so I thought – but observing Buddha and St. Francis staying put in spite of the devastation captured my imagination, and a poem crept in as solace.
And listening to our President’s farewell speech last night gives me resolve to stay put in my stance that we are all in this together, more alike than not, and together we will grow from whatever follows.
December 7, 2016. The world swirls with opinions, oppositions, petitions, all manner of unpleasant realities. I wrote this poem the morning after the November US election and set it aside till I could think more clearly. I keep humming to myself the last line of Ray Wylie Hubbard’s “The Messenger” – I just want to see what’s next. Then and still, the view is murky.
October 30, 2016. Over the past week, through all sorts of stress and disruption, I have been watching a morning glory vine protruding from a water bottle – sitting on my front porch to catch sunlight, I see it going in and out. That vine has kept me sane!
I guess the plant had to adapt, learn how to bloom in a bottle, as the first 3 buds to mature did not quite make it before dropping off. Then the fourth (pictured) and a fifth succeeded with flourish. Hoorah!
October 22, 2016. We have an explosion of morning glory vines alongside the house, so thick they reach over the walkway, tangling in hair and hats of those passing. Some so low the dog pushes them aside with her long nose. It’s a treat to move gently through the profusion. A broken stalks are bound to happen. One came indoors yesterday bearing two full blooms and multiple buds, plopped into a makeshift vase. The largest bud shows promise 24 hours later. (Image taken after mature blooms folded.)